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Background: For some reason I don't entirely understand (and don't necessarily have to), some of "Mother Company who gave the directory assistance contract to the company I work for" 's english-speaking customers' calls get rerouted to a call center in the Philippines. Most of them don't like that, as apparently the quality of spoken english in that call center is much lower than in the one where I work. I get this customer, starts out nice in broken english, if somewhat disoriented. Then, at some point in the middle of the call, if I remember well it was after I told her I couldn't find what she was looking for, she goes:
SRL: Are you in the Philippines?
Me: No ma'am, I'm in Quebec City.
SRL: Oh, you french people.
Me hesitant, as Quebec has very little to do with France other than the language used in formal settings: Um, yes?
SRL: You French people, you cannot help me, cannot find what I looking for. French people behave (or 'help'?) like they stone (or 'stoned'?)
Me: I'm sorry, I'm going to have to hang up. (as I was already done with the minimum required for the call, and she showed no intention of asking me anything else)
SRL - First, you're ignorant enough to think Quebeckers = French; Then you accuse all of us French and Quebeckers alike, as far as I can tell, of either being stoners, or dumb as stones. Rude, racist (or countryist or whatever), without any reason because a native english speaker would have told you the exact same thing I did, very minor vocabulary and accent differences aside. I'm proud of being a Quebecker, and I will not stay on the line to be insulted. Furthermore, the fact you insulted all my fellow provincemen and myself in my frigging face shows how stupid you are. I can only take comfort in that, and hope that you tragically get mixed up between your steaming iron and your telephone one of these days. Soon.
...Rant over. Felt better to type than I'd have thought.
Bonus: I'm wearing my black Children of Bodom - Are You Dead Yet t-shirt in the blue-shirt, red-owl convenience store where I stop on the way back home. I'm 'in line' (leaning against the wall in the little hallway to the back door where deliveries come in) to use the bathroom that can only accomodate one person at a time (or a particularly excited couple, I guess), not doing anything remotely productive at all. Dude walks up to me and asks, "Excuse me, do you work here?". With a crappy work day having already destroyed my patience, all I replied was, "Does that *points to shirt* f***ing look like the Store shirt?". Why do people not friggin' LOOK before they speak?
SRL: Are you in the Philippines?
Me: No ma'am, I'm in Quebec City.
SRL: Oh, you french people.
Me hesitant, as Quebec has very little to do with France other than the language used in formal settings: Um, yes?
SRL: You French people, you cannot help me, cannot find what I looking for. French people behave (or 'help'?) like they stone (or 'stoned'?)
Me: I'm sorry, I'm going to have to hang up. (as I was already done with the minimum required for the call, and she showed no intention of asking me anything else)
SRL - First, you're ignorant enough to think Quebeckers = French; Then you accuse all of us French and Quebeckers alike, as far as I can tell, of either being stoners, or dumb as stones. Rude, racist (or countryist or whatever), without any reason because a native english speaker would have told you the exact same thing I did, very minor vocabulary and accent differences aside. I'm proud of being a Quebecker, and I will not stay on the line to be insulted. Furthermore, the fact you insulted all my fellow provincemen and myself in my frigging face shows how stupid you are. I can only take comfort in that, and hope that you tragically get mixed up between your steaming iron and your telephone one of these days. Soon.
...Rant over. Felt better to type than I'd have thought.
Bonus: I'm wearing my black Children of Bodom - Are You Dead Yet t-shirt in the blue-shirt, red-owl convenience store where I stop on the way back home. I'm 'in line' (leaning against the wall in the little hallway to the back door where deliveries come in) to use the bathroom that can only accomodate one person at a time (or a particularly excited couple, I guess), not doing anything remotely productive at all. Dude walks up to me and asks, "Excuse me, do you work here?". With a crappy work day having already destroyed my patience, all I replied was, "Does that *points to shirt* f***ing look like the Store shirt?". Why do people not friggin' LOOK before they speak?
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